


Square (2020)

by feidlimid



Series: I Love You 3000 [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angry Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Binge Drinking, Canon Compliant, Drinking, Drinking Games, Emotionally Constipated Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Friends With Benefits, I love DK but sometimes you just gotta...go through it, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Needy Lee Seokmin, TTT 2020, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28875264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feidlimid/pseuds/feidlimid
Summary: The thing about Seokmin...is that Jihoon is his. The thing about Seokmin is that as funny as he might be, he’s always dead serious about this.
Relationships: Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Series: I Love You 3000 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169519
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	Square (2020)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Momomochi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momomochi/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE AQUA IN THE ENTIRE WORLD! 
> 
> It has been so wonderful to have the pleasure of knowing you for the last 4.5 years and to fall down the rabbit hole of Caratland together. 
> 
> I hope that this meets your expectations even though I'm a big softie that can't avoid a happy ending. I love you and wish you the absolute bestest year now that we've made it through the weirdest one.
> 
> title from [Square (2017)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iFP_wd6QU8) by Yerin Baek.

Seokmin feels it in the air the moment Jihoon steps into the office after the long drive back to Seoul. Now that the _Going_ cameras aren’t rolling, that they don’t have to not-perform for an unseen audience, the climate has shifted. Sure, he’s walking down the hallway, joking with Jeonghan and Soonyoung like always, but when Jihoon brushes past him to stand for the group photo, Seokmin feels something just slip out of place...like the barometric pressure of their atmosphere has dropped the tiniest bit. He feels the coming rain like a lingering twinge in his belly. Must be something he ate.

It’s not like anyone notices on the short ride back to the dorms. Everyone’s exhausted anyway--quiet--and honestly ready for a little alone time after 24 hours of concentrated “group relaxation.” Seokmin says his goodbyes to Hansol and Chan, waving as they shuffle down the hallway to their rooms, before collapsing face down on his bed. 

It’s cold, the chill of autumn slipping through the dorm’s thinly insulated walls after just a day with the thermostat off. He could get up and turn on the heater, but the fatigue that’s sunk into his bones makes him worm his way under the covers instead. He reaches behind himself to pull the duvet over his head, but his hand makes contact with soft jersey cotton. Without seeing it, he knows what it is. He can see the Romantic Crown logo on a field of grey, can feel the way his hands ran up and down the skin underneath it, can hear the way its owner came undone underneath him two nights before… Seokmin lets the sensations wash over him and, before thinking about it, presses the fabric to his nose. The scent of cologne fogs up his brain, until Jihoon’s name is the only thought in his mind and he finds himself gently rutting against the bed. He slips a hand under the waistband of his sweatpants, lets skin meet skin, and starts to touch...to rub...to stroke, until the traces of last night are just a hazy memory of phantom touches.

*******

Seokmin doesn’t mind when Soonyoung gets drunk and loses himself, shows the way he’s in love with every single boy in the room. No one thinks anything of it, too used to six years of clinging and kissing...and sometimes more than that...to really put much weight into what he does. So when Seokmin becomes this party’s target, he pushes him away with a laugh, gets Seungcheol to intervene, then Seungkwan, then waits. Waits to feel eyes on him from across the table, demanding his gaze, making him feel like he should come crawling home with his tail between his legs. Instead, he hears a low chuckle, Jihoon laughing at some lame pun Jun has come up with. Sees him make sure Hansol has enough food on his plate. Feels him do anything but acknowledge what happened on the other side of the table. Seokmin pours himself another drink, one for Mingyu too, and loses himself in the flow of conversation. 

Five more rounds of the S.Coups Game, another two of Hongsam--they drink until nearly all of them are as confused as Joshua trying to count backwards and everything feels as blurry as Wonwoo’s vision when Jeonghan steals his glasses. Mingyu’s just spilled a drink all over the table when Chan’s voice rings out above the ruckus.

“Hyung, hyung, let’s play Balance Game. His eyes are glassy and shining, and Seokmin honestly has no idea which of them he’s addressing. Doesn’t matter. The idea is quickly taken up by everyone at the table, Minghao grimacing while trying to hide a smile and Wonwoo quietly excusing himself to another room.

“Eisa! Eisa! You’ve gotta go first, you’re the birthday boy…” Jeonghan shouts across the table, redirecting the chaotic conversation to a laser point. Seokmin thinks they all look a bit like hyenas, ready to pounce whether or not their prey goes along with the game or not. He can’t deny he’s part of the pack.

“Fine, fine,” Minghao replies airily. “Someone give me a question.”

Out of the chorus of catcalls, Seungkwan’s voice pipes up from where he’s making yet another batch of ramen.

“Would you rather do Legos with Jeonghannie-hyung for 24 hours straight, or make bead bracelets with Shua-hyung for 24 hours straight?”

“Ayyyy, that’s not a good question, I just saw The8-hyung come out of Shua-hyung’s room the other day at…” Joshua awkwardly shoves a hand over Chan’s mouth, muffling the rest of his complaint.

“Legos, uh, Legos, it’s something I haven’t really tried so…” Minghao was already red from the sips of liquor he’d been taking over the course of the night, but the glow on his cheeks brightens to his ears. He lifts his glass to his mouth, and Seokmin vaguely wonders at his discomfort before Mingyu is laughing in his ear about Seungcheol missing his mouth with his most recent bite of meat. 

“Kwan-ah! Now you…’cuz, you--you asked the question..” Soonyoung grins through his slurred speech before leaning back into Seokmin. He’s warm...too warm, and Seokmin feels a bad vibe about where the night’s going to end up for him. He chances a glance across the table. Jihoon’s deep in conversation with Hansol about _something_ , probably some technical shit Seokmin’s sure he wouldn’t understand, another corner of their relationship he’s never allowed into. He swallows hard, feeling heat rise up in his throat, and thinks it might be time to slow down. 

Seungkwan replaces the refilled pot of ramen in the middle of the table and brushes his hands on his jeans.

“Shoot. What are you going to ask me that isn’t already obvious at this point?”

“Have a photobook directed by Mingyu or a fashion shoot but Vernon is your stylist?” A low voice cuts through the simmering discussion.

Seokmin didn’t notice when Wonwoo returned to the table, but his question puts a small chill in the air that they can’t just chalk up to the door still open to the outside. Seokmin shivers a little before leaning his chair back to look at Seungkwan. 

“Porque no los dos,” Seungkwan lets the meme trip off his tongue lightly, waving a pair of tongs in the air.

“Kwan-ah, you gotta answer, it’s no fun if you don’t answer.” Seokmin elbows Soonyoung, wanting nothing more than to keep the peace. Even if it is for _Going_ , it’s been too long since they’ve been able to let off some steam. They’re all still tired from promotions. He can hear it in the way Jun groans a little during his morning stretches, notices that even Chan’s cut back on time in the studio. They need a break...not whatever Wonwoo is trying to get started just to make the night more interesting.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and turns away from the table, walking back toward the stove. 

“Fine, then I pick Mingyu-hyung.”

Grinning devilishly at his victory, Mingyu does a tiny celebratory dance in his chair. Seokmin gives him a tipsy smile back, but feels a twinge as he sees Hansol nodding slowly out of the corner of his eye, arms crossed over his puffy vest. That’s...going to be A Thing in the morning. But for now, the laughter and jeering...and cheering, as Seungcheol downs another shot, papers over the cracks that reveal the delicate unbalances their relationships hinge upon.

Soonyoung quickly responds to his question-- _Obviously, ONLY being able to say horanghae would be better than being able to say anything but horanghae because you all DOUBT my abilities with inflection--_ turning the table’s attention to Seokmin. He smiles, a little wobbly at the edges, and hopes they’ll...be gentle. The conversation buzzes, resonates with the cottony feeling in his brain, until finally a question resolves out of the noise. 

“Would you rather give a kiss to Woozi-hyung, or get a kiss from Hoshi-hyung?” Chan’s voice curls around the question smugly...and Seokmin’s blood runs cold. He could have sworn they were quiet the night before, that there was no way their voices could have carried all the way down the hall to Chan’s room. But the knowing look the younger man casts at him indicates otherwise. Seokmin curses whatever demon-- _Josh_ \--gave Seungcheol the idea to buy industrial sized jugs of alcohol, much less ply them to their over-perceptive _maknae_. After a night of waiting to be seen, suddenly all eyes are on him. 

“Uhh...haha...uh, I uh, does someone else want to answer or?” Seokmin stammers nervously. The members have graduated from a pack of hyenas to a pride of lions, licking their chops at a wildebeest nearly out of strength.

“Your question, your answer, unless you want another round of this.” The jar of homemade liquor makes a sloshy thunk, as Seungcheol taps it to emphasize his words. Seokmin gulps.

“Um, I just...I mean both are good?” The group erupts in raucous laughter, and Seokmin can’t help but laugh with them, desperate to relieve some of the pressure. “But I guess since he’s next to me...get a kiss from Hoshi-hyung.” Seokmin smiles widely and reaches out his hand to shake Soonyoung’s, bringing them together in a solid slap. Soonyoung returns the smile fuzzily but licks his lips, as his eyes flit down to Seokmin’s own.

“Then kiss,” Jeonghan pipes up from the other side of Mingyu, voice oddly authoritative in spite of his drunken lisp. A chorus of “oohs” rings out around the table, covering the scraping noise of Soonyoung’s chair as he turns it to face Seokmin. 

“On the mouth, too, or else we’re not gonna count it and both of you have to drink,” Seungcheol giggles in delight, and Seokmin can honestly think of nothing better than taking the oldest and youngest out back right now.

Wolf whistles and catcalls echo in his ears, and he searches for someone, _anyone_ to slow the night down...no one. He looks across the table again, this time catching Jihoon’s eye. _Finally._ And then...a raised eyebrow, a small smile, a slap to Hansol’s shoulder as he turns to laugh open-mouthed at some joke Joshua’s made about the situation. Seokmin smiles wider, tighter, anything to hold himself together against the pull of liquor and emotions that threatens to drag him under the tide. Soonyoung’s face hovers in front of his...red and sweaty, but sweet and open and glowing...the way that’s always drawn Seokmin in. 

“You don’t have to do this...you know the cameras will catch it,” Seokmin whispers through his teeth, praying that Soonyoung will respond in at least a stage version of the tone. 

“I’m not scared if you’re not.” Soonyoung’s words come out boyishly defiant...and with a little spittle.

They stare into each other’s eyes, and Seokmin finds it hard to say no to the spark of mischief that glimmers between them. 

Their lips connect, Soonyoung’s plush and warm where they press against Seokmin’s. He nearly melts into it, nearly falls back into the hand Soonyoung’s cradled against his neck, nearly lets his mouth open to the way Soonyoung _fits_ with him. Anything to feel wanted...claimed...instead of the weird hollow the alcohol was painting in his gut. He closes his eyes, listening to the boys egging them on, wondering how much the staff will edit out...until he remembers the feeling of long, slender fingers tangled in his hair, remembers strong hips rolling together with his own, remembers the taste of rice and cola and late night chicken on their tongues. Seokmin pulls away with a silent gasp, gripping his chair to anchor himself in place.

A cloud of apology flashes across Soonyoung’s eyes, but it’s quickly swallowed up by cheers and calls for another round of shots before Mingyu’s led to the hot seat. Seokmin feels himself burning up and wishes he could excuse himself for the night or at least into the cold air outside. Instead, he sits and grins and laughs and does all his Dokyeommie things, waiting for a glare that never comes and feeling horribly, terribly alone.

*******

The thing about Seokmin...is that Jihoon is his. The thing about Seokmin is that as funny as he might be, he’s always dead serious about this. 

As the ceiling fan spins lazily, he swipes through his phone, scrolling through old Weverse posts until he finds the picture from a few-- _eight, quarantine time is weird_ \--months ago. Jihoon’s body had been warm against him, heart still pounding a little after their post-practice cool down. Seokmin remembers how they had all poured themselves out in the studio that day. How he couldn’t keep his eyes from shining with admiration at Jihoon’s sheer grace, no...tenacity, as they ran through choreography over and over again.

But then, there’s never been a time he hasn’t looked at Jihoon like he hung the stars and moon and Seokmin’s entire heart with his own hands. It makes it hard...every time Seokmin pulls him in for a selfie, for a kiss, for something more, and feels a steady...question mark of emotion on the other end. Every time, a bungee jump above an ocean, knowing you’ll be caught...never knowing when.

It’s just that...that, Jihoon holds himself so close to his own chest, like his feelings are a Pandora’s box that can only be opened under very _specific_ conditions. Seokmin has never figured out the proper spells. So he dances around him, testing the boundaries when he can, picking the lock with the best tools at his disposal, knowing the code will always change the next day. When he’s hot, they’re hot. Whispered praise and raucous laughter...tiny little touches that keep them anchored to each other. And when he’s cold...

His finger slides down to the comments on the post. _Get away from me_. He huffs and leans back on his pillow when he re-reads Jihoon’s reply, then remembers the sounds Jihoon had made...the broken bits of profanity he had bitten back later that night under Seokmin’s hands. Seokmin tosses his phone away and stares up at the ceiling. 

Four days back in Seoul, four days of practice and schedules and everything in between, four days without as much as a sticker from Jihoon. He’s busy, he knows. Hears it from Hansol when they meet in the bathroom in the morning. And yet, four nights alone in his bed, four nights going on five without Jihoon… It’s fine, it’s not like they owe each other company, carnal or otherwise. But the twinge in his belly makes its way up to his heart and finds itself a home to settle in.

*******

Purposefully or not, Seokmin always finds himself on the 8th floor once he gets tired of online shopping or reading or any of the other ways he tries to pass the weird space of downtime before the year-end crunch begins. He’s there again tonight, admiring Seungkwan’s plank form and rubbing his hands together in anticipation to start the new Lego set that Jeonghan managed to wheedle out of Mingyu. And if there’s an ulterior motive, well, that’s no one’s business but his own. 

As Jeonghan rips into the cardboard box, the distinctive click and whirr of the lock interrupts the flow of chatter. Seokmin’s head whips around fast enough to strain a neck muscle...or maybe just his pride, as Seungkwan stifles a chuckle. Then the _sha-sha-sha-sha_ of slides dragging down the hallway. The sound resets the rhythm of his heartbeat...Seokmin knows he wears his heart on his sleeve. He also knows, right now, it might as well be his entire outfit. 

“Woozi-hyung, come play with us! Jeonghannie-hyung’s about to start a new Lego set,” Seokmin croons at Jihoon as he walks past the common room, giving what he knows is his most winning smile. He shifts closer into Jeonghan’s side on the couch and pats the newly opened space welcomingly.

“Ah. Uh, I...I didn’t get much sleep and I’m still running behind after TTT. Maybe once things slow down?” Jihoon mumbles quickly, barely stopping to look in. 

Seokmin hears the click of his bedroom door close behind him. 

He tries to ignore the sympathetic glance Jeonghan throws his way and busies himself with opening little plastic bags for little plastic pieces, his vision a sequence of red and yellow and bright blue, as the colors spill out and tumble together on the coffee table.

“You...know you could go talk to him, or to me...if something’s the matter?” Jeonghan looks over, hair still mussed and fluffy after his shower. Seokmin kind of wishes he could hide inside his softness forever. 

“No, it’s fine. He’s...he’s busy.”

“He’s busy, but…” Jeonghan trails off, lips twisting into a grimace as he struggles with a stubborn bag. “Look, he’s not usually too busy for you. Did something happen or?”

“If you guys are doing relationship triage, I’m out. I’ve had enough of it to last a _lifetime_ this week.” Seungkwan sighs dramatically, before lurching off the floor and heading to his room.

“We’re not, there’s nothing to…” Seokmin weakly calls after him, but sinks deeper into the couch in lieu of finishing the sentence. “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s fine, I’m fine...and even if there were something to talk about, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe like at the beginning?” Humming a little to himself, Jeonghan starts organizing the pieces by color, then size, then gives up on the enterprise altogether. 

“Beginning of what?”

“Hmm, who knows? But when did _this...”_ He waves his hand. “Start? Since when have you been like this?”

Seokmin turns the question over in his head, pulling on the last bag of plastic to no avail. _It’s always like this. It’s never like this. It’s too many contradictions packed into 163 centimeters of a man. It’s too fucking much for me to get a handle on. I don’t want to do anything else but keep trying. I don’t know what he wants from me...I don’t know if he wants_ me _._

The bag suddenly opens with a pop, Legos raining all over the table and floor. Seokmin curses under his breath.

“Ahahaha, it’s alright, it’s alright, I’ll pick them up.”

Seokmin moves to help, but something holds him back, emotions souring into something unpalatable...something shameful and petty and small.

“Hyung, I think I’m too tired to really help here. I’m just...going to go back to my room.”

“Dokyeom-ah…” Jeonghan opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it. “Sleep well, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, hyung.”

******

The space between 2 and 3AM is always the worst, colored in restless movement and indiscernible shadows that keep Seokmin’s eyes open for far longer than they should be. He’s awake, painfully so, and without the excuse of practice or jet lag to explain. 

The streetlight pours through his window, illuminating the outlines of a room half lived in. Clothes tossed on the back of a chair, wardrobe ajar, empty cans of energy drinks on top of the desk. In normal circumstances, Seokmin’s half life was at least met with another, at least for half the night. Falling asleep with someone next to him made the contours of the night resolve into something solid, as if you could grab it with your hand, before it slipped away into dawn.

He checks his phone...a message to the group chat from Chan three hours ago...a dumb meme from Jeonghan…and nothing from Jihoon. He knows where he is anyway.

And so, he falls into their typical routine, even though he hasn’t been called. Drags himself out of bed, slips on his sneakers, and walks the ten minutes to where he knows Jihoon will be. Stops at the convenience store on the way, blinks at the bright fluorescent lights, awkwardly waits at the counter while the clerk warms up two meals... finishes the walk to the studio, shivering a little at the wind that bites against his thin hoodie. 

Two knocks and the door opens. Jihoon looks...beat, but he does his best to plaster an appreciative smile on his face as he waves Seokmin in.

“You brought food?”

“Yeah, I hadn’t uh...heard from you, hyung. Thought you might want something.” Seokmin sets out the containers on the low table, makes to sit down...stops himself. 

“Thanks, yeah, I’ll grab it when I get to a stopping point.” Jihoon looks to the side as he speaks, scratching his neck, before walking back to the desk.

“Have you eaten...at all today?”

“Yeah, yeah, I had something earlier,” Jihoon airily replies. 

“Oh...good. That’s good.” 

“You should get back home, it’s late.” Jihoon doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder, but keeps his voice bright, friendly even. It feels like talking to a stranger.

Seokmin pulls a little at the strings of his hoodie, unsure where to go next. In normal circumstances, Jihoon would sigh and stretch his arms out, groan like an old man and plop himself on the couch next to Seokmin before inhaling whatever he’d brought. In normal circumstances, they’d talk about a whole lot of nothing before Seokmin coaxed Jihoon back to the dorms, back to a place of remembering the entire world _doesn’t_ actually hang on his shoulders. In the face of this...this kindness, saccharine and hollow, Seokmin feels empty handed. So, he searches and finds the only weapon left to him.

“It’s just...I…” Seokmin swallows and steels himself. “Hyung, where have you been? You don’t text, you barely come home, you hardly--”

Jihoon chuckles grimly, “How would you know? We’re not even in the same dorm.” He turns back, the bright screen casting his face in sickly blue light.

“You know….you know why I know. I...miss you.” Seokmin’s voice wavers. He hates it, knows it’s the prelude to something more.

“Everyone’s back at the dorm. I’m sure Jeonghan or someone would wake up to eat.” 

“Hyung, I said you. Not Jeonghan, I miss you.” Something rises in his chest.

“Well, here I am. Alive, working, busy.” He pauses. “Dokyeom, you’re tired. Why don’t you just go home?” Care hints at the edges of Jihoon’s voice. It’s more than Seokmin can handle.

“Jihoon-ah,” Seokmin growls. “If we’re just going to do this, do you want me to go back to Hoshi-hyung? Do you want him to get on VLIVE and kiss me in front of all the fans? Would that make for a good bit?” Anger breaks over him like an ocean swell. For all the “nicer than god” reputation that’s built up around him over the years, those who know him _know_ that when you’ve lit the match of his temper, there’s nothing that can be done until it burns out. 

Jihoon meets him with silence. “Did you like it?” Seokmin scoffs. His palms start to sweat, frustration building in his gut and making him feel seasick and razor sharp at the same time. 

“No, of course I didn’t _like_ it,” Jihoon clips out, eyes determinedly focused on the screen in front of him. “You think I like it when he’s drunk and showing off for the cameras and touching you like he knows what everyone’s going to say online?” His voice is tight, almost hoarse as he fights a losing battle to keep it flat.

Seokmin crosses the room in quick strides and _jerks_ the back of Jihoon’s chair to spin him around to face him. It’s dark--but he can see Jihoon’s eyes open wide underneath the neon light that illuminates his workspace. 

“How can I know when you won’t fucking tell me what we are? Am I supposed to play connect the dots for the rest of our time on the team? For the rest of my fucking life?” Seokmin realizes he’s panting, chest heaving up and down as he crowds Jihoon at his desk. 

Jihoon swallows hard. If Seokmin were in a more giving mood, he’d soften, recognize the emotions playing across the other man’s face, know that he’s always saying with his music what he can’t find the words to articulate. But not now, not after hours and days and months of smiles and laughs and touches, played over the constant thrum of Seokmin’s heart pleading... _pick me...say I’m yours...everyone already knows you’re mine._ Jihoon looks up to meet Seokmin’s eyes, and there’s a look he doesn’t recognize within them. 

“You want to know what we are?” Jihoon bites out. Suddenly, he stands up, making Seokmin shuffle backwards, steps wobbly and unsure. Jihoon paces toward him, holding Seokmin’s gaze. Every step throws Seokmin further off kilter, pushing him back closer and closer to the couch.

“You want to know how it feels to see you smile at everyone, cuddle up to every _hyung_ you come across, even when I know you’re going to come crawling into my bed at night?” Now that Jihoon’s found his words, they come tumbling out like a stream after a spring thaw. Seokmin almost feels reminded of when he writes lyrics, but doesn’t get a chance to finish the thought before the backs of his knees are hitting the couch. Jihoon is on him in a flash.

“You want to know what we are? Why don’t you _fucking_ tell me?” Jihoon pulls Seokmin by the collar of his sweatshirt and stares, breath fanning hot against his face. _One, two, three_...Seokmin counts his breaths, not making it to four before Jihoon crashes their lips together. 

He loses track in the darkness of who loses a shirt first. Whose skin burns against whose, as they fumble for stability on the small sofa. Whose teeth sink into whose shoulder, desperate to make a mark that leaves no room for the question that still hangs in the air. 

_What are we?_

Their legs tangle together, sticking to the pleather surface, as Seokmin moves against Jihoon like a man possessed. Hungry moans paint the room in dark chromatic tones, as they return to well-explored territory, hands moving with feverish yet practiced ease. Prayers and curses uttered in tandem, first quiet, then growing louder as if to drown out the uncertainty suspended between their bodies.

_Why won’t you tell me?_

They find their rhythm again, or something like it, staccato where it once was smooth, keeping time with the snap of their hips before falling into disarray. It’s too hot now, too much, sensation overcoming any remaining control. And as a wordless cry escapes Seokmin’s lips, it’s not enough to silence the echoing ache in his heart.

_What does it take to give myself to you ?_

They’re spent, breathing heavy against one another. Seokmin feels like he’s coming out of a haze as Jihoon slides off of him, sweaty and suddenly a little cold. They sit up, hesitant and unsure. Seokmin searches his brain for what to say after you have angry sex with your not-partner...until Jihoon rests his head on his shoulder with a sigh. It unloosens something in him, makes his mind go blank for a moment, and he winds an arm around the smaller man. They settle into one another...not content but familiar, until the drumbeat begins again to pound in Seokmin’s head.

_What are we?_

The question rings out loud, playing over and over in heavy rotation. It cuts through the fog, through the haze of feelings and hormones, straight to the part of Seokmin’s heart that refuses to filter itself through his brain before arriving at his mouth. He takes a deep breath and jumps.

“Hyung…” Seokmin whispers as he gently drags his fingers along Jihoon’s bare arm. His hair is completely disheveled, and he knows that his neck will bloom in shades of red and purple within a matter of hours. “I just...I need to know...what are we?”

Jihoon pulls back and looks up from where he’s tucked himself into Seokmin’s side, the bruises on his body not looking all that much better. He stares consideringly, going through fifteen different permutations of what to say. Seokmin’s skin burns under his gaze.

“You said I’m yours,” Jihoon’s voice comes out husky. “How could you ever possibly think you’re not mine?”

Seokmin breathes in shakily, the words resonating in his chest before they reach his head. 

“I’m yours?”

“You’re mine. I don’t know how to say it more clearly than that.” Jihoon’s voice goes small, “I don’t want you to ever have to doubt it.”

Seokmin traces his fingers along Jihoon’s chin, tilting it up until their eyes meet. 

“Tell me every night and I won’t.”

Jihoon grimaces before responding, “You drive a hard bargain, Dokyeom-ssi...how about three times a week? Four when it’s your birthday.”

“Every weeknight and every other weekend. That’s my final offer. And you have to use your words.” Seokmin fights to keep a straight face, as Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“Do stickers count as words?”

“Fine. But the clock starts tonight.”

“Understood, understood.” Jihoon settles against Seokmin again, and the weight of his head feels like the sunrise after a storm. Seokmin wants to wake up to it every morning.

When he steps back into the cold air, he pulls the drawstrings of his hoodie tight before setting back out for the dorms. Seokmin doesn’t get more than 20 steps down the road before there’s a buzzing in his sweatpants.

 **Woozi-hyung**

****

{Dokyeom-ah, you’re mine.} ****

Seokmin smiles as he pockets his phone again and floats the rest of the way to the dorm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and, as always, infinite thanks to the patient people who look at the disjointed scraps of writing I shove in their faces at all hours of the day.
> 
> I basically imagined this to play out some time in the week between when I assume TTT was filmed and the Idol Wonderland broadcast (where DK asks Woozi for a kiss and claims to never have gotten one from him). 
> 
> If you liked it, drop some kudos or leave a comment! Forreal, comments are like water to my soul. 
> 
> Also, if you're a Seokhoonist and a grown-up, come be my friend!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/TheS_standsfor)/[cc](https://curiouscat.me/TheS_standsfor)


End file.
